


Relief

by startwithsparks



Series: MMOM 2014 [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, M/M, Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwithsparks/pseuds/startwithsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their way back to camp, Bucky and Steve take a moment to regroup and find each other in the chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relief

Captain America may have been able to walk back from the front lines without stopping to rest, but that didn't mean that the rest of the survivors could. He got them as far as the edge of safety, where the boom of explosions and scent of sulfur and smoke no longer lingered, then helped the men set up camp for the night. They arranged a watch, shifts of six men patrolling the edge of the camp, each one armed with one of the strange weapons they had looted from the HYDRA base. Steve took the first watch, and the second, and would have taken the third had Bucky not limped towards him, grasping the side of a tree for purchase, and beckoned him back towards their tent.  
  
"You need to rest," he said, looking more tired and haggard than Steve had ever seen him. "More importantly, I need to rest."  
  
Steve nodded, he didn't need Bucky to say any more than that. There had always been an unspoken understanding between them, something that went as far back as their friendship itself, forged in a time when Steve didn't have the words or the bravery to express the things he needed to explain. In the years that followed the two of them faced the death of their parents, the threat of war, and finally, the looming knowledge that they may not ever see each other again once Bucky shipped out. In all those years it became necessary to express volumes in little more than a single word, to feel the relief of purging all the pain and haplessness they felt in just a look.  
  
Bucky was giving him that look now; so Steve handed his weapon off to the soldier who'd come to relieve him and scooped an arm around Bucky's torso to help him back to camp. The adrenaline of fighting had worn off and now he was exhausted. Steve was as well, though there was something in him that demanded he kept moving until everyone was safe. It was the thing inside him that Erskine had told him about, the thing that would only grow and become more of a vital part of him as he became this thing that was him and not him all at the same time. It was like a sixth sense, something that had once been instinct alone and was now a beacon pointing him in the right direction. He'd learned quickly that right didn't always mean good, but it also didn't mean he had to make the huge, heroic sacrifice in order to do the right thing. Sometimes the only thing he needed to do was help a friend back to his tent and lie down next to him so he would finally be able to close his eyes.  
  
There weren't blankets or sleeping bags, and the only reason they had the few tents was because they had found the equipment among the tanks and other vehicles they'd commandeered. For the most part, they were reserved for injured soldiers, and considering what he'd been through, the troops put Bucky at the front of that line. No one else had been singled out by the Germans and actually made it out alive. Steve rolled his coat into a pillow and tucked it up against the side of his shield, sitting hunched against the side of the tent near the flap. Bucky dropped on the ground next to him with a groan and cast a sidelong glance towards the shield.  
  
"Some things never change," he said.  
  
Steve smiled weakly and gave a faint one-shouldered shrug. "It was all I had," he said. "I didn't really think to grab a weapon on my way out."  
  
"You didn't need one." He dragged a hand through his hair, though it seemed like it might be in a state of permanent disarray now, "I thought at first I might be dreaming again, or hallucinating, it was hard to tell which was which there towards the end. The only reason I knew it was real is because of the way you looked. When I imagined you storming in and knocking someone out you were still just a hair over five foot and gangly as ever."  
  
"It makes a better story, doesn't it?" Steve offered, ducking his head slightly.  
  
"I don't know," Bucky shrugged, "I think this makes a pretty good story. I mean, have you looked in a mirror lately?"  
  
Steve snorted, "I can't say I have."  
  
"Well, you should. This - whatever they did to you - it looks good on you."  
  
"I'm glad you're feeling well enough to crack jokes at my expense again," he said, nudging Bucky carefully with his foot. It was hard not to smile when he was around the other man, no matter how dire the circumstances were.  
  
But Bucky shook his head again and pushed himself up enough that he could reach his hand out, grasping hold of Steve's upper arm and pulling him in. "I'm not making any jokes," he said. "But you know if I'm going to make a reasonable judgment on the work they did on you, I've gotta see it up close."  
  
Steve cleared his throat, "I'm not sure that's an authorized use of this equipment..."  
  
"I almost died," Bucky retorted. "I think I deserve this much."  
  
Whether he couldn't or just didn't want to argue with that logic didn't particularly matter once Bucky dragged him forward into a kiss. It felt like nothing had changed and no time had passed between them, and it would be all too easy to allow himself to continue to think like that, but one of them had to remember that they were surrounded by fellow soldiers, with only a thin sheet of canvas between them, which was only incidentally more important than the fact that Bucky was also injured. But kissing didn't hurt anything, and they could do that much while Bucky was lying down, with Steve knees pinned between his legs and his hands planted on either side of his shoulders. He couldn't say it was a position he'd ever been in, and yet he didn't hear any complaints.  
  
It wasn't until Bucky started tugging at his costume that Steve finally pulled away to frown down at him.  
  
"Where the fuck is the zipper on this thing?" Bucky grunted.  
  
"In the back, but-" Steve started, but the words were no sooner out of his mouth than Bucky's fingers clasped the zip and started yanking it down. "This is a bad idea," he whispered, his voice strained.  
  
"This is a great idea," Bucky countered, leaving the fabric of Steve's costume hanging loose while he leaned back and started undoing his pants. "I can be quick."  
  
He had never been particularly adept at refusing Bucky anything and certainly no more so because of the changes he'd been through. If anything, the relief that he had found his friend alive and still himself was overwhelming enough to have him doing anything he was asked to do. Bucky had his zip halfway down when Steve freed his arms from the tight fabric and pushed it down around his hips, only to realize that the other man had stopped moving and was staring up at him.  
  
"Jesus," Bucky muttered. "You don't even look real."  
  
Steve managed a faint grin and shrugged, reaching down to pull Bucky's hands away from his pants and place them on his shoulders instead. Bucky took the invitation with enthusiasm, pulling Steve back down to him again, while letting his hands wander down his arms and across his chest. He'd spent some time looking as well and he still wasn't used to it; it only seemed fair that Bucky had the same chance, even if it had to be condensed into a few brief moments. Maybe there would be time for something more involved later, but for now they had to be quick and they had to be quiet.  
  
He finished with Bucky's pants and dipped his fingers inside to grasp him, pulling a faint moan from Bucky, whose lips were still crushed against Steve's own. He didn't need anything in return, the feel of Bucky's hands against his skin and his lips trailing over his neck and grunting softly against his ear was all he needed. It was as much about the two of them reconnecting with the only thing that had ever felt right as it was about comfort and killing the heavy ache that came when the bottom fell out of a rush of fear and excitement. For once, Steve didn't overthink anything about it. He gave up control to instinct and to Bucky's fingertips, trusting the rumble of his voice to lead the way, the way he always did.


End file.
